


Spooky Season, Innit?

by Notte_Nyx



Series: Changing Seasons [2]
Category: A Christmas Carol (TV 2019)
Genre: Alcohol, Belly Kink, Established Relationship, Frotting, Getting off Through Clothes, Internalized Biphobia, M/M, Premature Ejaculation, References Period Typical Homophobia, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27444595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notte_Nyx/pseuds/Notte_Nyx
Summary: Halloween was chilly that year, dark and crisp and in all ways the ideal form of the holiday, unless of course you were Ebenezer Scrooge. Jacob's managed to drag him to an All Hallow's Eve Party, but Scrooge will have to confront his own ego before he can manage to have any fun.
Relationships: Belle/Ebenezer Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), Jacob Marley/Ebenezer Scrooge
Series: Changing Seasons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2075403
Kudos: 10





	Spooky Season, Innit?

Halloween was chilly that year, dark and crisp and in all ways the ideal form of the holiday, unless of course you were Ebenezer Scrooge. Inside an impressive manor outside of London, an enthusiastic celebration raged around him— much to his chagrin. 

Trapped in the dancehall, leaning back against the far wall, Scrooge sighed and rolled his eyes as he watched the drunken reverie with trained disinterest. Jacob had succeeded in dragging him to the All Hallow’s Eve party of one of their business associates and although Scrooge recognized that his presence was good for their business, he was certain that his personality was not. Quite frankly, the less their colleagues knew of him, the better--and he had a feeling they’d agree. Social graces were Jacob’s forte, not his. When a passing gentleman looked too long at him, Scrooge failed to meet his gaze, looking down under the excuse of adjusting his cuffs, or his shoes. The cheerful music and combined warmth of so many people dancing and talking in the same space, rather than spreading its warmth to him, had the effect of making him feel rather irrelevant and slightly tired besides. He was trying his best not to be excessively cranky, truly, but that was proving to be an inordinately difficult task. Feeling out of place translated to spiteful and cranky perhaps a bit faster than was ideal, which of course made him grow ever more cranky and annoyed with himself. A vicious cycle. 

His companion seemed to have disappeared into the crowd, not terribly difficult given his small stature. He thought it equally likely that Jacob would be standing at the center of the throng, regaling everyone with an entertaining story or a dirty joke, yet Scrooge couldn’t seem to hear his voice carrying through the din. The collective laughs and chatter had not grown so loud yet that it was wholly unbearable, but the occasional erroneous screech of a fiddler’s bow was beginning to wear on his nerves. The man either needed resin or to take up an instrument more suited to his graceless hands. The smells Scrooge found far more tolerable, fresh apples and oranges; roasted nuts and hickory nut cake…fresh-ground spices winning out over sweat and body odor, at least for the time being. An odd laugh from a guest shrieked out louder than before, and Scrooge was left fanning himself--trying to imitate a breeze despite his conviction that he was on the verge of melting. His mind had occupied itself by counting every musical misstep, every  
rhythmic stomp of a boot upon the floor. 

His counting had made a rhythm of his own, quite converse to what reverberated through the dance floor, only sometimes overlapping. Rather the same trajectory of his life, he was inclined to think, indulging in a fanciful moment. The ruddied faces and loosening curls of the women who whirled past failed to fill him with any particular excitement, even if they did invoke the memory of a night, a dance that seemed to confine itself to a lower depth of his memory with each passing day. He supposed that he couldn’t mourn the relationship any longer and he didn’t think that he was doing so--they simply had different needs, at the time--but he missed the little things. The thrill of her pulling him onto the dancefloor, the peculiar quirk of her mouth when he said something amusing...just missed her, he supposed. It still stung; to be surprised by a memory, something familiar that was in his life no more. The moment he found his eyes lingering a bit too long on a passing dancer’s milky bosom, however, he decided to direct them elsewhere. The front of the house was a convenient target, and had the benefit of making him look like he was awaiting someone’s arrival rather than hiding in the corner like a shy youth. 

No one was coming to pull him out of his own head this time, to guide him with a firm and gentle hand while everyone else laughed and clapped. He was not even the reluctant star of this scene--not that he’d want to be. He’d had peers then, even something like a family...for the most part now he just had associates. She’d had to lead, he mused, as he’d had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands, or where it could possibly be appropriate to put them. He’d been comfortable that way, with her leading, but he hadn’t listened to her where it mattered in the end. Even that night, she hadn’t been able to fully extricate him from Jacob--he’d cut in with a mocking bow and a beaming smile and they’d whirled around the dance floor to the amusement of everyone there, her included. Well, that had been alright when they were only a few years removed from boyhood and in familiar company. Everyone had thought it a riotous joke. He was sure that if they tried that here, well, awkwardness would easily be the least of their problems. He’d gone to bed that night exceptionally pleased and flushed and woken up guilty and sweating. Even then it should have been clear that he wanted them both and just as clear why it could never end well. Greedy. He knew it to be true, no matter how he denied it, but he’d instead decided to turn greed into a lifestyle, to embrace his faults as strength.

“You haven’t been moping all night, have you?” a voice asked as Scrooge felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could register it as familiar, Scrooge started, making a strangled noise. 

“Just me!” Jacob added, putting his hands up open-palmed. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on ya.” 

Scrooge let himself breathe. For a reasonably sturdy man, Jacob moved with the silence of a cat when he wanted to--not that he’d appreciate the comparison. 

Yes, he reminded himself, it was Jacob. Looking every bit as handsome and winning and roguish as he had that Christmas eve, only now his eyes were shining with concern. Even in the candlelight, Scrooge could clearly see the showy vest in an autumnal rust color and patterned pants that Jacob had carefully selected earlier, ever the fashion plate. Scrooge’s monochrome ensemble looked all the more dour in contrast, but he would hardly let it be known that he cared. He longed to brush Jacob’s hair--tousled out of place from exertion, no doubt--back from his face. To greet him with the level of gratitude that he did in private...but all he could reasonably do was grimace. 

“Surely you didn’t need to do so...I don’t much enjoy being startled.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” Jacob replied, slightly cross, “Are you doing alright? I know you’re not the biggest fan of noise.” Everything else he was inquiring about remained unsaid, as it tended to.

“It’s starting to grow on me,” Scrooge conceded, “this particular noise, anyway.”

“Is that why you look like you’ve been sucking on a lemon? You know, there’s much better things to put in your mouth.”

 _Agreed_ , Scrooge thought, rather amused with himself.

“Why don’t we get a drink?” Jacob continued, “It’ll loosen you up a little. It’s always easier to have fun when you’re a little sauced, lowered inhibitions and all that.” 

“Are you suggesting that I’m only fun when I’m intoxicated?” He folded his arms, feeling obligated to be at least a little difficult. 

“I meant you as in people in general, as you know full well,” Jacob was unmoved, “I, for one, would like another drink and I enthusiastically invite you to join me, friend.” The hand returned to Scrooge’s back, this time pushing him rather firmly in the direction that Jacob was leading. 

He should have been embarrassed to be handled like an ornery child, but he rather enjoyed their light-hearted battles, their push-and-pull, and he had rather the impression that Jacob did too. Perhaps in compromise, he followed Jacob’s urging without complaint. 

“Were you speaking with our hosts?” Scrooge asked, genuinely curious. “I hope they don’t think me to be a spectre, but you tend to make a better envoy.”

“Only a bit,” Jacob replied breezily, “no one wants to talk business at their own party.” 

“Who kept you so occupied, then?”

“Oh, a few people. Don’t remember half their names,” he shrugged, “but they thought I was hilarious.” 

Finally they’d made it to the refreshment area after, to Scrooge’s mind, narrowly dodging a few dancers that seemed wholly unaware of personal space. Jacob opened the tap and poured him a glass.

“Scrumpy.”

“Pardon?”

“You’ll like it, it’s made of apples.”

“It’s a waste product,” Scrooge replied unimpressed, the name finally clicking in his head. 

“I thought you approved of thrift. Just try it.”

Scrooge took the cup from him and took a sip, swirling it in his mouth thoughtfully. It was actually quite nice.

“It’s not bad.”

“Told you. It’s not too strong either.”

Scrooge took a longer draught this time, noting privately that the wind that had been howling at the windows not too long ago was now joined by the insistent patter of rain. Walking home was certain to be dreadful--there was never a good time to be soaked, especially not this time of year. 

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“They’re worth far more than that.”

“Gift me one, then,” Jacob replied, lofty and looking too mischievous for his own good. 

“I was thinking that the weather sounds terribly fierce right now.”

“A little bit, yeah. But it’s ambient, innit? Spooky season.”

“I can’t say that I love the idea of celebrating terror and outdated superstitions. My fears have never been worthy of exaltation.”

“I don’t think that’s really the idea,” Jacob offered, “It’s more of a...catharsis. Putting all the things lurking at the corners of your mind out in the open. Has less power over you then.”

“Or gives them more power to hurt you,” Scrooge mused. “All my ghosts and ghouls belong locked up inside my head—it’s exactly what they deserve.” 

“I’m sure you can make the inside of your head a very inhospitable place when you choose to,” Jacob replied more gently. “I’m sure I’d have no idea what to do in there...get totally lost among all the rows of thoughts and columns of ideas neatly indexed in such a way that only you could find what you’re looking for.”

“I’ve no desire for you to join my treasury of unpleasant memories unless this is your way of trying to tell me something,” Scrooge replied sharply. He sighed, sounding more tired than he realized. “I think drinking makes me maudlin.”

“I’d believe that if your glass wasn’t mostly full,” Jacob smiled softly, patting him on the arm. “We don’t have to fight any ghosts tonight, Ben, don’t worry. That’s not a requirement of our attendance. I believe that the only requirement is that we have fun, if you’re willing to give that a try.”

Scrooge nodded, feeling more than a little foolish. 

“Excellent. Why don’t you finish your drink?” Jacob asked, before tossing a handful of nuts in his mouth. 

It was almost embarrassing, the way that Jacob’s cajoling worked on him. Still, he didn’t need to ruin the evening—more than he already had, anyway. He drank while Jacob talked, expounding on the people he’d met that night and what they’d discussed. Though Scrooge didn’t often say it, he thought Jacob had a rather pleasant voice, easy to listen to even if he wasn’t saying much of anything at all. 

“I was a bit surprised to not see you leading the revelry for once,” Scrooge offered, when the subject allowed for it.

“Sometimes it’s better to be part of the crowd,” Jacob shrugged, “Get to know people better that way. Besides, they didn’t seem to need any help on that front.” 

“They certainly didn’t. Everyone seems to be embracing the hedonistic aspect rather wholeheartedly. Still, I hope that you did enjoy yourself.” 

“I still am,” Jacob offered, “I don’t think that we need to leave just yet. They’re still doing party games.”

Scrooge had no great fondness for the idea of making a fool of himself for Jacob’s amusement. Bouncing off of strangers in the dark and grasping at nothing.

“Don’t we want to get ahead of the weather? This storm’s going to be terrible to walk home in.” 

“It’s already gotten terrible,” Jacob shrugged. “We can always take a carriage.” 

“Rather an unnecessary expense, don’t you think?” Scrooge suggested, knowing that Jacob’s mind was already made up. 

“We can afford it,” Jacob grinned, looking rather proud of himself, “And you certainly can’t tell me otherwise.” 

And god help him, Scrooge couldn’t argue with that face.

“Given that our success is thanks in part to your connections, I suppose I can’t deny you an occasional luxury.”

“That’s the spirit. We’ll call it a business expense,” Jacob added with a wink. 

They weaved through the crowd, two ships in an ocean of enthusiastic guests. 

A triumphant shout and a splash told Scrooge before he saw it that someone was bobbing for apples, a game that annoyed him both for its messiness and its inherent germ exposure. Unfortunately, Jacob had already noticed. 

“Race you to see who can get an apple first?”

“That game is unhygienic and besides, isn’t it for match-making?”

“Only if you’re a newly marriageable lady. It’s just for fun, is all.” He dropped his voice, playfully. “And it seems a little late to start objecting to my mouth now.”  
Jacob’s teasing often had the side effect of being a challenge as well, and Scrooge was not one to stand down. He grinned.

“It’s not your mouth so much as the mouths of everyone else here, but I suppose I can suffer some foulness for your benefit.”

A few onlookers had become intrigued by the prospect, laughing and watching with mild interest, relaxed enough to not think much of two men ribbing each other. “Go on, then!” Someone shouted. Where such an audience would normally be mortifying, Scrooge found it empowering. , _Yes Jacob, I will call your bluff._

The glint in Jacob’s eyes only empowered him and at his friend’s nod, Scrooge lowered his face into the barrel. The water was disconcertingly luke-warm and Scrooge kept his eyes firmly closed, unwilling to risk seeing the state of it. Water filled his nose and dripped down his throat, but he was careful to keep his mouth closed until he felt the curve of an apple against his lips. He opened his mouth wide and bit down as best he could, struggling not to gag on the water that was forcing its way down his throat. 

He raised his head in triumph, grinning as best he could around the fruit. Pleasantly light-headed and quite pleased with himself. The crowd seemed to approve of his efforts and, heartened by their cheering, his gaze trailed across the barrel to Jacob, finding him looking damp and thoroughly entertained.

“Well done,” Jacob laughed. “I almost didn’t think you’d go through with it.”

Unable to reply to Jacob while he still had an apple forced between his teeth like a suckling pig, he gently extricated himself, and took a determinedly casual bite of it for good measure. 

“I thought the same of you. Seems we’ve both surprised each other.” He swallowed. “Not bad.” 

“Seems to have gotten you a bit wet though,” Jacob replied, once again joining Scrooge at his side as they made their way back into the flow. 

Scrooge looked down, not having noticed in light of his victory. “I supposed it has--it’s warm enough in here, it’ll dry soon.”

“No fussing about how I’ve made you ruin your shirt? Seems the spirit of the evening’s gotten to you after all.”

“Or you have. You’ve got a way of...rubbing off on me.”

“Do I, now? How about you get the drinks this time.” 

Scrooge did so without an ill thought, not wanting his mood to sour and the two of them found a suitably private corner where they could enjoy them. Said privacy got him feeling especially daring.

“If you’re so concerned with my shirt,” he hissed in Jacob’s ear, “You’re welcome to find a place where you can remove it. Can’t imagine you want me catching a chill.”

“As much as I love that idea, Ebenezer,” Jacob replied, tone velvety, “I don’t much fancy getting caught out by our colleagues in a cramped closet or spare bedroom. We’re certainly not the only ones here to be having those kinds of ideas, in case you didn’t notice.” 

“Oh I noticed,” Scrooge replied, surprising himself with his own candidness, “What do you think gave me the idea in the first place? Young love, young lust...it’s a little intoxicating, isn’t it?”

“It is, yeah, made it all the more painful to watch you looking like a bride left at the altar earlier.” 

“I’m sorry, Jacob,” his sentiment was genuine even though his tongue had gotten thick. “I didn’t mean to ruin anything. I’m just never quite sure what to do with myself in social situations. Always feeling out of place, or out of sorts. While it’s impressive to watch the way you conduct yourself with people, it’s also daunting. You’re easy-going, you’re charming--I have some difficulty letting go like that.” 

“You haven’t ruined anything,” Jacob replied gently, “and you did manage it before, however briefly. You don’t have to be the life of the party, but we are a partnership. I’d like to have you by my side, at the very least. I don’t want to feel like I’m holding you over a barrel--well, maybe an apple barrel.” 

“That was rather fun,” Scrooge admitted, “By your side...is exactly where I’d like to be. Tonight, tomorrow...as long as you’ll have me.”

“Seems like I should have gotten the apple, then,” Jacob teased, “Because that sounded very much like a marriage proposal. Or maybe it should work the other way around with two gentlemen.” 

“It’ll be our own tradition,” Scrooge laughed. “I think it’s fitting.”

They passed the time watching their fellow party-goers and making idle discussion. The two of them even joined a game of blind-man’s bluff, and who could blame Scrooge if his hands brushed against Jacob in all the kerfuffle?

As the hours passed and the candles burned down, Scrooge had quite forgotten himself. It rather startled him when the clock sounded at midnight. 

“I think it’s time we take our leave,” Jacob suggested, “unless you want to participate in the mirror game.”

“I think I’m all set on that front,” Scrooge smiled, “I’ve been looking at my love all night, after all.”

Even in the low light, he could see the pleased blush on Jacob’s face before he went out to summon a cab. Scrooge, victorious, held the memory of that blush as he went to fetch their coats.

And it was a good thing that Jacob had kept his promise, because the weather hadn’t gotten any better. The two of them made a mad dash for it, trying to avoid getting thoroughly soaked. They failed of course, cold rain soaking Scrooge’s hair and running down his collar. They found themselves laughing as they all but tumbled through the door of the carriage. Each man made himself comfortable as the rain beat down on the roof, Scrooge finding the rhythm to be much more enjoyable now that he was shielded from its wrath. Pleasant, almost. Their coats were folded and set aside, Jacob’s ridiculously ornate cane stowed in a corner. Scrooge couldn’t help but grin looking into his shining eyes, noting the way that the rain had plastered his hair to his head. Jacob told the driver to be off and Scrooge took the opportunity to lean against his shoulder in the darkness. 

It seemed that Jacob hadn’t forgotten Scrooge’s previous overtures, however, and his hand soon found Scrooge’s knee, rubbing lightly before making its way up the inside of his thigh. 

“Oh, I see, a cab is fine, but not a closet?” Scrooge murmured jokingly. 

“A cab is more comfortable,” Jacob replied easily, “and since I’m paying for his services, he won’t breathe a word of it.”

Still, the idea of a tryst in the back of a carriage had a wonderfully illicit element to it that appealed to Scrooge through his faint haze. 

“Why, Mr. Marley, I’m starting to think you’re experienced in the business of fornication,” he was teasing, of course, a game in which he pretended that Jacob was corrupting him with his oh-so-worldly ways.

“I’m experienced with all business,” Jacob replied, smooth, “but I have a particular fondness for that one.” Jacob squeezed his inner thigh briefly. He raised his hand to the front of Scrooge’s trousers, rubbing the growing bulge gently. “You’ve been aching for me all night. The full moon getting to you or somethin’?” 

“I can’t imagine why you’d complain if it was,” Scrooge couldn’t bite back a low moan. “’S got me all needy and ready for you.” 

“I’m not complaining at all, just curious if maybe I’m bedding a werewolf or something like that.”

“You know I can howl, given the right treatment…” His breathing grew more shallow as his cock stiffened, straining against the front of his pants.

A quick readjustment and Scrooge was straddling Jacob’s lap, supported by Jacob’s strong, lovely legs, and bucking his hips against the comfortable pudge of Jacob’s lower belly. Jacob was squeezing Scrooge’s ass and kissing his mouth hungrily, breathing out “fuck”s and “yes”s between gasps of air. Scrooge had planted his palms on Jacob’s chest, to steady himself of course, but also to enjoy the planes of muscle as his hands roamed slowly, heartened by Jacob’s approving moans. Jacob’s fingers, clever and insistent, began to follow the cleft of Scrooge’s ass, finding his taint through his trousers. Scrooge cried out and his hands, grasping for purchase, found Jacob’s soft sides— the result of his fondness for drink and good food. A development that Scrooge found most appealing. He returned Jacob’s kisses with equal enthusiasm, biting roughly on his lower lip. Such a lovely, full mouth Jacob had...such a lovely everything. He couldn’t think of the cab driver or the consequences of relieving his aching hard-on and rubbed himself against Jacob’s stomach with utter abandon, as if he was indeed in heat. 

He finished rather suddenly in his pants, and the realization set in as he felt the warmth and stickiness spread. He looked down to see that Jacob was contending with a wet spot of his own and smirked as he relaxed his head on Jacob’s shoulder. 

He must have dozed off, he realized quite suddenly, as he felt Jacob gently urging him off his lap. The cab was no longer moving, and they were in front of what he clearly recognized as his own house, brightly illuminated by the full moon. Jacob paid and thanked the driver while Scrooge pulled his long coat tighter around his front, feeling suddenly rather self conscious and a bit exposed. Some of his buzz had dissipated, leaving him a little groggy. Looking up at the moon from his front walk in the wee hours of the morning, he had to admit that it was rather beautiful, if nothing supernatural. The rain had faded to a fine mist and that moment seemed to last forever, both beautiful and supremely mundane. 

He opened the door to his cat’s lamplike greeting him in the darkness before she darted forward and he felt her paws batting about his feet. It might have startled him had his nerves been frail or his mood sore, but in as good a humor as he was, he simply scooped her up and began to stroke her head. Her rumbling purrs let him know that she approved. 

Jacob edged past him and began to build a fire in the fireplace. 

“Thank you for tonight,” Scrooge offered, eyes still fixed on Fluffy’s peachy fuzz. One might think ‘Fluffy’ a cruel name for a hairless cat, but Scrooge only meant it with the most affection, having named her for the full mane on her neck and chest that seemed intent on defying her biology. “I know I wasn’t the most exciting date.”

“You never are,” Jacob teased as he fed the growing flame. “But you’re mine anyway.” 

_Mine_ swelled in Scrooge’s chest like a bellows; warm and buoyant. No matter how many times Jacob said it, he’d never tire of hearing the word. 

“It’s a pity we couldn’t join in the dance,” Fluffy seemed to be testing just how far she could stretch towards the floor while still remaining in his arms, and so he opted to let her down. 

“It is. As forward thinking as our most recent associates are, I think they’d have a heart-attack if they knew—”

“—Or have us strung up on the gallows.” 

“— But we’ve got plenty of space here.”

“Are you serious, Jacob?” 

“ ’Course I am. I can even hear the music.” He extended a hand. “Ebenezer Scrooge, may I have this dance?”

Scrooge smiled and shook his head with amusement. Leave it to Jacob to tease him in his vulnerability. 

“You’re not turning me down, are you?” Jacob asked, sounding wounded as he drew closer. “That’s not very gentlemanly. You hear it too, don’t you?” 

He certainly did. The siren song of Jacob Marley, that damnable tune he couldn’t get out of his head even if he wanted to. 

“Is it a nice three-quarter waltz, perhaps?” He asked, taking Jacob’s out-stretched hand. 

“Yes, that’s it. I can lead, if you like,” Jacob put his other hand on Scrooge’s waist. 

“Yes, I think that’d be best.” 

Their waltz—which benefited from Scrooge’s excellent timekeeping if not from his graceless feet—was pleasantly familiar and yet wholly different from the one they shared that Christmas Eve past. The two of them were much more in-step nowadays which came, Scrooge supposed, from years of anticipating the other’s moves. A rhythm they’d been building from the day they met and had continued to refine as the years passed, settling comfortably into a groove that suited both of them. Fluffy watched critically from the chair, her tail curled around her and resting daintily atop her feet as the fire crackled behind them. 

Scrooge had lost track of the time, couldn’t say how long they swayed and shuffled back and forth but when they finally slowed, he pressed a soft kiss to Jacob’s lips. 

As kisses tend to, it broke the spell, causing Scrooge to remember quite suddenly what he’d done to his trousers earlier. 

“I should like to wash these, I think,” he said to Jacob, slightly flustered as they broke apart. 

“I’ll have my washerwoman do mine and yours,” Jacob shrugged.

“Oh, you don’t need to bother, and I’d hate to be without my clothes.”

“I’m sure you’ve got a second pair of trousers.”

“I do, but--”

“Honestly, I’m hoping for round two of what happened in the cab, if you’re still in the mood.” Jacob looked at him with lust, but also tenderness, a crooked grin and an utter fondness that made Scrooge’s stomach flutter. 

As seemed to be his new habit, Scrooge couldn’t find it in him to refuse. His home was warm, the moon was bright, and his heart was full.  
___

**Author's Note:**

> I see the two of them as being in their mid-30s here. 
> 
> Scrumpy= boozy apple cider made of discarded, imperfect, or unsaleable apples 
> 
> The mirror game=At midnight the player, usually a woman, was meant to look into a mirror in the dark and see the reflection of her future love. Kind of an anti-Bloody Mary
> 
> Bobbing for apples=Even though the game was, as Scrooge says, intended for matchmaking, accounts suggest that in mixed company men were far more likely to play than women, since dunking your head in water would ruin the elaborate hairdos favored by society women at the time. There was also a way more dangerous equivalent involving suspending an apple from one end of a stick and a candle from the other--the idea being to bite the apple without burning yourself. But I couldn't imagine Scrooge would be willing to risk wax burns to the face.
> 
> There were also some pretty gross games involving sticking your fingers in dirty water to reveal your future that I don't think Scrooge would be able to stomach. 
> 
> The Victorians considered Halloween to be a romantic holiday, the idea being that the thin veil between the realms allowed you to predict the future. And of course, factor in ambient candlelit dances and Celtic fertility symbols and all that. Halloween parties were popular social events and the games played centered on revealing the initials, name, or appearance of your future marriage partner
> 
> Feel free to stalk me on my Scrooge RP Tumblr madeofflint if you want to see more of this content/content in this universe


End file.
